


To A Gentle Bath

by Fyre



Series: Desire Increase [11]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bathing/Washing, the slow road to intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27373423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyre/pseuds/Fyre
Summary: After the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, Aziraphale and Crowley are trying new things.Wherein an angel and a demon share a bath.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Desire Increase [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784770
Comments: 27
Kudos: 226





	To A Gentle Bath

Once in a while, Aziraphale allowed himself a particular kind of treat.

When he had taken ownership of the bookshop, he hadn’t really put much thought into decorating the small flat above it, but occasionally when he had had visitors, especially in the latter parts of the 19th century, they had expected a bathroom, so he had hastily inserted one. Technically, it was too large for the space it filled, but no human paid that much attention. They simply saw the clawfoot bath, the necessities and a rarely-used sink.

He hadn’t changed it since then, though the white honeycomb tiles on the floor were always pristine and the deep blue glazed ones that rose halfway up the wall always gleamed. The shades reminded him of the lovely tilework in Khwarzm.

It transpired that having a private bath was a luxury he had not anticipated, but with the advent of hot running water, it was an indulgence that was freely available whenever he desired.

On such evenings, he would fil the tub, bringing in a couple of the oil lamps from downstairs, set a record playing, and simply soak. Whether there were tensions of the day to dissolve or not hardly mattered as gentle waves lapped around his throat and he closed his eyes to bask.

Of course, in hindsight, he realised he should have let Crowley know when he heard the distant tinkle of the shop’s bell and the call of “angel!” from downstairs.

Idly, he considered shifting from the tub, but the water was lovely and Crowley had seen him in baths before across many continents. “Up here, darling,” he murmured, letting his voice carry, though his hand was pruned enough that snapping a finger to open the door proved impossible.

Several minutes – and some clattering – later, the doorknob turned and the door cracked open.

“You in–” Crowley stopped dead. “Uh.”

Aziraphale rolled his head sideways to gaze at him. “If you’re coming in, shut the door, dear. There’s quite a draught.”

Crowley stumbled into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it.

Aziraphale laid his head back against the facecloth draped over the edge of the tub, closing his eyes again. “Mm.”

“You’ve got a bath.” Crowley said several minutes later.

“Well-spotted.” The angel couldn’t help himself. He opened one eye, admiring the flush spread across Crowley’s cheeks. “If you’re warm, you can take your jacket off. I tend to keep it hot for quite a while.”

“I could…” Crowley flapped a hand towards the door. “I mean, if you’re wanting to relax and do… you know…”

“I don’t mind if you stay.” Aziraphale shifted to sit up a little, bracing one dripping pink arm on the edge of the tub. “It’ll be like Izmir again. Or Rome. Or Ronda.” He glanced around. “Admittedly, a little less marble and less pummelling and olive oil, but still.”

For several seconds, Crowley didn’t move. “You’re naked,” he finally pointed out.

“I _am_ in a bath,” Aziraphale said with fond amusement. “Are you coming over all Victorian again?”

Crowley groaned, rolling his head dramatically. “You’re loving it, aren’t you?” He grumbled, stalking over and throwing himself down to sit on the toilet seat’s closed lid. “Oooh, look, big flustered demon.”

Aziraphale gave him a reproachful look. “I’m surprised, that’s all. It isn’t as if we haven’t seen one another unclothed dozens of times.”

“Yeah but–” Crowley cut himself off with a huff.

But…

But things had changed. Little by little and unmistakably.

Every moment, every gesture, every touch was now fraught with a new meaning. Good, yes, but also clearly marking a fine line that neither wanted to cross without being sure of the others’ feelings. Like treading a high wire, wobbling precariously towards the other side, step by step.

Well, perhaps it was time they took a bolder step.

Aziraphale sat up a little, flushing for reasons other than the heat. “Would you like to join me?”

Crowley – halfway leaned back against the pipe to the cistern – tipped a bit too far and had to grab the sink for balance, making an inarticulate string of sounds. “What?” he finally croaked out.

In for a penny, Aziraphale thought, ducking his head. “Well, since you’re here and there’s plenty of space and more than enough water. He gave Crowley a cautious, hopeful look. “We’ve bathed before. Why not bathe together again now?”

“Really?” A brittle thread strung through Crowley’s words, vibrating with wariness.

The angel nodded. “I’d enjoy the company.”

Crowley swayed where he sat, then nodded tautly, unfolding to his feet. He hesitated, then took off his glasses, folding them with a tap-tap, and setting them down on the edge of the sink. “M’not like you, angel,” he warned quietly. “All bones and edges.”

Aziraphale’s heart fluttered. “Then I’ll be soft enough for the both of us.” He curled his hands over the edge of the tub, drawing himself back to sit up.

Crowley swallowed, throat bobbing, then snapped his fingers. His clothing vanished, leaving him flushed and bare beside the tub. He reached down to steady himself on the side, dipping one foot into the water and hissing.

“Too hot?”

He shook his head, setting his foot down on the bottom of the tub between Aziraphale’s legs. With only a little wobble, he brought his other leg over the side and stood, undecided, looking down at Aziraphale, water lapping around his knees.

“Which way…?” he asked, the uncertainty in his expression doing peculiar things to Aziraphale’s insides.

At once, the angel tapped the surface of the water in front of him. “Here,” he murmured. “Like we did when we slept.”

Crowley met his eyes, one side of his mouth curling up, and he turned, sinking to sit and slowly, gently easing himself back. Aziraphale’s knees peaked of their own volition, forming little islands to give him room, until Crowley’s cooler back pressed flush to his chest, sending up a small tsunami of fragrant water between them.

Almost simultaneously, they both drew and released a breath.

“Wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Aziraphale murmured as Crowley subsided against him, his head falling back to rest on the angel’s shoulder.

Crowley tweaked at his knee. “You’re a menace,” he murmured, tilting his head to knock his brow against Aziraphale’s chin.

“It takes one to know one.” Aziraphale dropped a hand to gently knead Crowley’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

Wet fingers closed around his wrist and he froze, afraid he had gone too far.

“Shaddup, angel” Crowley murmured, sounding warm and drowsy, and pulled Aziraphale’s hand down to rest over his heart.

“Yes dear,” Aziraphale whispered against his steam-damped hair, threading their fingers together under the water.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] To A Gentle Bath](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27400618) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




End file.
